


Waking Up

by PawneePorpoise



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 5+1 Things, Force-Sensitive Finn (Star Wars), M/M, POV Poe Dameron
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21834814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PawneePorpoise/pseuds/PawneePorpoise
Summary: Life is a series of mornings.--Written from Poe's perspective, a series of important mornings in his life. Some sad, some scary, but all worthwhile to get to the happiest of ones in the end.See chapter notes for more warnings.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 16
Kudos: 58





	1. Loss

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in the SW universe! Let me know what you think or just stop by the comment section to say hello <3
> 
> **Warning:**  
>  This chapter mentions canonical minor character death that is not described in detail but Poe will be reacting to that character's death. Overall the chapter, and all of them really, remain hopeful.

Poe Dameron is destined for a life as an exceptionally skilled pilot, _the best in the galaxy_ , legends will say, ready to fly wing-to-wing with any fighting force that suits his resoundingly-just morals. This son of not one but **two** distinguished war heroes, will one day exceed any and all expectations that have been placed upon him both in his career, and in the fiercely loyal way he remains devoted to his friends and family. This man, who will grow-up to be the deciding factor between freedom or devastation for the entire galaxy, is, at this moment, nothing more than an eight year old boy, waking up all alone in his childhood bedroom. 

As the sun rises, the calls of the blue-furred woolamanders perched in their tree-top nests fades away, replaced by the harmonies of the whisper birds roosting in a nearby tree. The wildlife on Yavin-IV keeps a routine it seems, oblivious to anything but their own needs. 

Poe’s home however remains awfully still, as if someone inhaled deeply the night before and forgot to exhale in the hours that followed. There’s something missing, some intangible piece of the puzzle he’s grown accustomed to in his eight years that broke off between yesterday morning and this very moment. And the weight of that hole feels like it just might shatter his heart into a million irreparable pieces. 

Waking up yesterday hadn’t felt like this at all. It was mundane, routine, boring even, just another normal day in a mostly normal childhood. Shara Bey, Rebellion war hero; the best A-Wing pilot ever to share the skies with Leia Organa and Luke Skywalker; wife of the mighty pathfinder Kes Dameron; to Poe, the strong, steady, gentle presence he’d come to know as _mother_ stood just down the hall in the kitchen humming a lighthearted song. The familiar melody floating to his ears brought him back to consciousness almost as effectively as the scents of her cooking wafting through his bedroom door. He’d stretched his tiny arms above his head of messy black curls and padded down the hall into her welcome embrace. Where every fiber of her being radiated _love, acceptance, home_. 

Poe’s childhood was perfect, until it wasn’t. 

Today seems like decades away from yesterday, in the stark absence of that heady melody. The crushing weight of his mother’s wedding band -no longer on her gentle, calloused, fingers, now hangs on a simple silver chain around Poe’s neck- threatening to choke him almost as completely as the sorrow welling up inside him. While yesterday had begun normal by all accounts, his mother’s sudden, unexpected departure from the living world hit harder than any blast of laser fire in the old war stories he overheard the adults tell around a campfire.

Would there even be any more of those get togethers? His young mind whirls with the possibility that anyone could be expected to move on and continue living and experiencing emotions like joy and laughter in a galaxy that no longer holds Shara Bey. Surely the heavy dark storm cloud that’s settled firmly over his own home is also blanketing the entirety of this moon. 

But at a particularly loud chirp from one of the birds outside his window, Poe’s reminded that life is indeed continuing as normal for everyone except what’s left of his already small family. His mother may be dead but his father’s still here, undoubtedly somewhere in their house. He’s the only person Poe has left in his small part of the galaxy. But after seeing the devastation in his father’s eyes replaced by dull almost-lifeless resignation when it was clear his mother wasn’t waking again, Poe shudders to think of searching him out for fear of finding that same expression still on his face. 

Kes Dameron, while providing the strong, sometimes heavy handed discipline that a precocious child like Poe requires, is always nothing but loving to his son, and Poe has learned to recognize the minute facial expressions that give away his father’s true emotions hidden beneath his rough exterior. But the version of his father he saw last night as he was tucked into bed, wasn’t one he’d ever witnessed before and wishes so desperately to never see again. 

Kes was cold, and quiet, like the light that once radiated from his warm brown eyes had left Yavin along with the life force of his wife. And just as it had brought tears streaming from Poe’s eyes then, recalling the memory now has the same horrifying effect. Would he ever stop crying? 

So as this small boy lies in his bed that morning, with shaking fingers tightly gripping at the smooth silver band on it’s chain, for the first time in his life, Poe feels truly alone as the fear of what’s to come of his future and of his now imperfect family scrambling to find purchase in a decidedly harsher world creeps steadily into his broken heart. 

Every day that follows that one, the initial tidal wave of sorrow recedes into smaller breaks until it is only a faint lapping at the edges of his soul. The seemingly endless well of tears proves to indeed have a bottom and Poe grows to understand this new pattern of noises as a second symphony of his childhood. The memories still remain of the time when his mother’s melodies would grace his ears, and he has some old holovids to remind him if he feels they are fading, but his father’s deep rumbling hums to the traditional songs playing on the radio make a new normal in his morning routine. 

Life may never be the same again, not even the Force can return his mother to him, but Poe, even as a mere child forced to confront the harshness of life’s frailty, begins to understand that while he feels alone in those moments in-between without her physical presence strengthening him, her memory serves to provide comfort during the particularly dark times to come.


	2. Companionship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A friend is someone who understands your past, believes in your future, and accepts you just the way you are.

The shrill beeping is about as subtle as being dunked in a bucket of ice water, but it brings Poe awake quickly and efficiently. A rumbling groan works its way from his chest as he flails his arm out to silence the alarm and for the first time realizes the full extent of his body’s soreness. 

A week spent going through New Republic basic conditioning leaves him ragged and exhausted in a way he didn’t know was possible, but despite their collective woes the new recruits manage to throw a party for the ages after exams were finished. Now waking up the next morning, despite not having physical training for once, Poe regrets his choice to go for those three extra shots of Corellian brandy. 

The shrieking of his alarm clock is replaced now by a throbbing in his skull and pounding behind his eyes that tell him with clear certainty he isn’t getting out of bed anytime soon. He prefers not to move at all, but it becomes clear that at least one annoying pain in his side isn’t coming from overexerted muscles or an excess of alcohol. 

Carefully, he cracks open an eye, watching as a slim mechanical arm repeatedly jabs into his ribs. Turning more completely he follows the reach of the arm down to the area next to his bunk where his small orange and white astromech, BB-8, is softly cooing while maintaining his steady prodding. 

Another groan, which BB-8 knows by this point is Basic Poe for _What do you want?_ leaves the little droid responding with what surely passes for a disappointed sigh. He pops open one of his storage bays to reveal a few pain-relieving pills. Poe reaches sluggishly out for the medication and the arm previously jostling him awake moves to force a glass of water directly into his face. 

Swallowing the pills with a grimace at his now spinning surroundings, he downs the rest of the water before sliding back against his pillows to wait for them to take effect. He barely has enough cognitive power to mumble a _Thanks, buddy_ before sleep takes him once more. 

\--

Waking up for the second time that day, _was it even still technically day?_ , goes better than the first. 

For starters, Poe manages to get both feet firmly on the ground and stand up without falling over, though the churning in his stomach is definitely still going strong. In fact, he’s so focused on making it down the hall to the communal freshers that he doesn’t register the added plates and dishes on the small table next to his bed until he’s returned. It’s then, with slightly clearer vision as the fog lifts from his brain that he realizes something smells _wonderful_. 

Sure enough, the short standard issue bedside table that only a few hours ago held empty liquor bottles and plastic cups is now lined with small plates of hot food and steaming cups of what he severely hopes is his favorite caf, though at this point, anything will do. 

Next to this wonderful spread sits BB-8. His optical sensor staring up at Poe as if waiting for his feedback on this thoughtful display of care, and maybe it’s the residual effects of the hangover or maybe Poe is just a giant sap, but somehow he finds himself kneeling before his best friend, embracing the astromech in a way that is as familiar to them as a secret handshake was to kids playing in the old temples on Yavin IV. 

BB whistles contentedly, and it’s comforting to know that Poe will always be able to count on this pal to keep an eye on him as he clearly isn’t always so good at doing that himself. 

Gently bumping his forehead against BB’s dome, Poe settles in on the floor and begins pulling plate after plate down as he stuffs himself with light fluffy pastries and hearty protein packed meats and cheeses. BB has really done his best to provide Poe with everything he needs to be back to fighting strength, no trace of last night’s digression to be found. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, buddy” Poe says softly. It’s times like this, when he would occasionally be under the weather, or suffering the fallout from a particularly spectacular failure of a mission, that Poe’s loneliness hits him hardest. 

He thinks back to brighter, warmer days. Days spent climbing Force trees and snuggling between his parents on their couch watching holo-dramas, their family’s secret guilty pleasure. It’s been years now since his mother’s death, and his father is still living in the family home, focusing his time on odd projects around the property. Poe could call him whenever he wants to talk, but it isn’t the same. 

As if sensing the melancholy threatening to drown him, BB shifts a little further away from Poe, setting up to project one of the family holovids Poe has loaded onto the droids memory for safe keeping. 

A shimmering blue image springs to life in the room, a woman, standing in front of some pots on a stove. She’s swaying gently back and forth, to a song that’s seemingly playing solely in her thoughts as she hums along outloud. 

Twirling around the small space, mixing something here, cutting something there, all the while her humming evolves into gentle singing, into a full, beautiful voice floating through the scene like a summer breeze. 

Poe watches enrapt. He’s seen this video hundreds of times of course, but somehow BB always knows what type of comfort he needs. 

“I miss you mom,” Poe whispers as he brings the gold band suspended on a chain around his neck up, pressing it to his lips. 

When the video ends BB rolls back over to Poe’s side, nudging against his arm. The droid begins a low whistling approximation of the tune from the video, and Poe begins to sing along intermittently while finishing off the breakfast. 

When they finish up, he finds he’s actually feeling a lot better, and lets his head fall to rest against BB-8’s.

“Thanks buddy.” The responding trill echoes the sentiment.

Things aren’t always easy, Poe feels like he knows that better than most, but it’s this moment, on top of a million other little day-to-day ones that cements it for him. Regardless of what he has to face in the future, they’ll get through it as long as they stick together.


	3. Anticipation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe finds himself waking up on a Resistance base for the first time.

Last night was his first night at the Resistance base on D’Qar. A week ago, Poe was an up and coming pilot in the New Republic Defense Fleet, and more recently, he just narrowly avoided Court Martial and left behind everything he’s worked years to accomplish. Now, he’s waking up on a considerably worn-in bunk hidden deep inside the secret base of what most people feel is a fringe militia chasing after a ghost of a villain their parents were supposed to have defeated years ago. 

_What am I doing?_

At least if this is some huge mistake he isn’t entirely without support. BB-8 defected with him of course (there wasn’t even a question that the astromech would follow him to the ends of the galaxy at this point). His fellow members of Rapier Squadron decided to defect too; Kare Kun and Iolo Arana. They were what was left of Rapier after Muran’s death. 

_You deserved better. It should have been me instead, friend_

If Poe allows it, his thoughts on the events leading up to and including Muran’s death in the hyperspace wake of the Yissira Zyde will continue to drag him down, and he has to report for assignment this morning with as clear a head as possible. 

As tumultuous as the past few weeks have been, he is excited about the prospect of all he can accomplish as part of the Resistance. He’s interested to see what other fighters have assembled. The Resistance, much like the Rebellion of the previous war is kind to members of the Dameron/Bey family. His mother’s old squad-mate Lu’lo, who for all intents and purposes is Poe’s uncle, is fighting alongside him now under General Organa’s lead. 

_General Leia Organa_. Growing up Poe’s heard more than a few war stories from his father of his plights fighting alongside Han Solo and Chewbacca during the Battle of Endor. In fact, he’d barely seen his parents at all before the age of six because of their allegiance to the Rebellion. And he’s always known his mother knew the General personally from her high risk missions around the same time. But to be in her presence here, seeing her work first-hand was still so surreal. 

He had to admit, when he first met the General face-to-face, despite it being an inopportune time with him being under arrest by the New Republic for disobeying orders and all, he had the strongest urge to beg her to tell him any stories she had of his mother’s time in the Rebellion. 

And part of that desire, to hear more, to understand this Legend his parents spent so much of his youth following into the fray, drove him to immediately jump on the opportunity to sign up with the Resistance when it was presented to him. 

At this point, he’s been lying in bed awake for the better part of an hour. He’s supposed to report in to get his orders for his first mission in 45 minutes and he hasn’t even gotten dressed or eaten anything. 

It’s then that he realizes his nerves are making themselves known, or maybe not nerves, he doesn’t even know what his mission is going to be yet, it’s anticipation. 

That feeling when you’re standing on the edge of a cliff, and you know it’s high up, but there’s too much cloud cover to see how far down the bottom is and you still decide to jump. 

Regardless, Poe’s learned, there’s no way to know how bad a situation is until you’re in the middle of it, or hopefully, coming through the other side. Hindsight is 20/20 afterall. 

So he gets up and swings his mother’s wedding band back around to it's rightful place over his heart from where it’d gotten tangled over his shoulder during the tossing and turning he’d suffered through last night. Then he throws on his standard uniform, the jacket his dad gave him when he left for the New Republic, and snatches a protein bar from his emergency supplies before heading out to face the day. 

With any luck, his first mission would be flawless and he’d be back at it again, mission after mission until they found a way to win this thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, full disclosure. I had written the rest of this story, had the other chapters all fleshed out and outlined, but this chapter just wasn't coming to me. It's why this has been sitting in my drafts for over a year. Then I realized sometimes you have to write something you don't like, to get to the stuff you can be at least a little proud of. So, if this was also your least favorite chapter because nothing happened. I get it. Thanks for sticking with me.


	4. Crashing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe wakes up in the wreckage of a crashed TIE fighter stranded in the sands of Jakku.

Initially, all Poe’s aware of is unforgiving heat, stark silence. 

Slowly opening his eyes, just a crack, sends a flood of light in, forcing them to quickly shut again and for a single second until his brain catches up Poe thinks he’s managed to fully blind himself this time.

On pure autopilot his brain runs through the series of checks he’s fallen accustomed to after a crash landing, which, he wishes, happened less often where this wasn’t second nature. But even (or maybe especially) the best pilot in the Galaxy has to pull a rough eject mid-dogfight from time to time. 

He realizes quickly that nothing seems to be broken, though there’s a soreness already in his left thigh when he tries to wiggle his toes that indicates it took the brunt of his body weight on impact. Having his senses beginning to return to him he can better survey his immediate surroundings, which he realizes is a whole lot of shrapnel and suddenly how he didn’t end up impaled on some jagged piece of titanium or durasteel is beyond him as the reality of his situation sinks in. 

Back to his mental checklist, his flight suit seems intact, and there’s a little smoke still coming off the soles of his boots from what he assumes was a close brush with a flaming piece of the TIE fighter he only got to fly for a few minutes. 

He supposes that’s lucky because the only thing worse than waking up stranded in a desert would be waking up naked stranded in a desert, and if he knows from personal experience that’s a memory he can relive at another time. 

Speaking of which, all around him is what appears to be the Galaxy’s worst bread crumb trail of ever smaller pieces of the ship smoldering in the otherwise stillness of the desert. Not just any desert, _Jakku_ , he notes and then suddenly everything that happened to him in the past 12 hours comes rushing back. 

Realistically it’s just another effect from the crash, or maybe it’s the weight of his most recent trauma but his breath feels stolen and he has to quickly yank off his helmet as he violently lurches to the side heaving his stomach contents into the sand. 

After a few moments of deep inhales and slow exhales to calm his nerves and unsettled stomach, he almost undoes his progress by remembering that he wasn’t alone in that TIE before it crashed. 

Images of a Stormtrooper peeling off his helmet in a cramped hallway to reveal a young, clearly terrified, ( _and handsome_ his brain unhelpfully supplies) man coming to his rescue flash before his eyes and he feebly calls out, “Finn?”. 

Or rather, he tries to but who knows how long he was unconscious out here and without water his vocal chords fail him. 

The ringing in his ears seems to intensify for a few moments as he gets to his feet, but he is right about nothing being obviously broken. Thank the Force for small miracles, but now that he’s standing and gravity is affecting him differently his shoulder is tighter than normal and he’s dizzy. 

Though whether the double vision is from a concussion or dehydration is anyone’s guess. Either way he’s sure Kalonia is going to give him one of her very disapproving looks when she finds out he went gallivanting through the desert immediately after crashing. That is, if he ever makes it back to D’Qar. 

Surveying his surroundings he tries desperately, once his sight stabilizes, to see any traces of Finn, but aside from the whipping noise of flames and the scratch of sand crunching beneath his feet, the landing zone is deathly silent. Actually, aside from the smaller pieces of hull, there doesn’t seem to be any larger hunks of wreckage to comb through and how that happened or why he’s standing here even able to search when Finn is seemingly lost to this Hell of a desert planet is beyond him. 

An uncomfortable pressure returns to the center of his chest and he knows from experience it isn’t indicative of any physical ailment. It’s that bone deep sensation of being down and out and utterly alone, suffering a loss he’s surprised is affecting him as much as it is. 

Maybe it’s because Finn came to him when he was sure his number was up, at his absolute lowest after barely surviving that horrible incursion into his own mind at the hands of Ren, or maybe because he’d given the man a name and was by all accounts the first one to treat Finn like an actual human being of all things. 

But understanding that he, himself, is alive and walking away from this crash and his new companion is not, somehow sinks deeply into the core of his very soul and the guilt washes cold against the edges of his already fragile mind.

Like a reboot to BB-8s processors when they suffer an extra hard hit, his mind refocuses into survival mode as he tries to orient himself in the direction of the nearest outpost, but it’s really only about 20% educated and 80% guess. 

As he sets off, he tries not to let some of Finn’s last words echo in his mind. His own condemnation following swiftly behind. 

_We can’t go back to Jakku! We go back to Jakku, we die!_

_I should have listened, you were right._

_Finn, I’m sorry._


	5. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you don't even have to be alone to feel alone.

_Poe...Hey, Poe...what are you still doing here?_

“Finn?”, Poe sits up suddenly, going from a restless sleep to wide awake in seconds. He’s sure he had just heard Finn’s voice calling to him, but as the room fades back into his awareness he realizes that’s impossible. 

He gingerly sits back in his chair, trying to roll out the kink in his neck from sleeping hunched over the side of the bed here in medical where Finn has been unconscious for the past three days since returning from Starkiller Base. 

As he looks over his friend’s unconscious form he’s in the exact same position he was last night when Poe fell asleep, which is how he knows whatever he thought he heard was clearly a dream playing tricks on him. His subconscious reminding him that he’s getting a little too old to be sleeping crunched up, 4 hours at a time in a wooden chair. 

Looking at Finn now, peaceful expression on his face it would be easy for someone unaware to mistake the graveness of the man’s injury, but hidden underneath the worn out blanket tucked over his body, Poe had seen the length of charred flesh that was left in the wake of Ren’s saber strike. 

It really was a miracle of the Force that Finn was alive at all. When the ramp of the Falcon had opened a few days ago and Rey came running out calling for help Poe’s stomach had turned to solid cement, halting him in his tracks for a moment until his brain kicked back into gear and he escorted Finn’s prone form all the way to medbay before being ushered aside by a very rude med-droid. 

And really, aside from a few bathroom breaks, and one time when BB-8 tricked him into thinking something was wrong with his charging base back in their room as an excuse to lure him back to sleeping in an actual bed, Poe hasn’t left Finn’s side. 

Poe’s not even really sure why he feels like he has to stay here. He’s not even sure that Finn won’t find out eventually and be entirely weirded out by it. It would be easy to say something like Finn saved his life so he owes him, but even though they haven’t had time to talk about it, Poe is pretty positive Finn doesn’t feel that way. 

When they broke out of The Finalizer it was a mutually beneficial escape/rescue situation, no one owes anyone anything. But since waking up on Jakku knowing Finn was a goner to landing back on D’Qar after the battle over Takodana and seeing him alive and well, Poe’s felt a connection to this man, to this friend, like none other.

With everything that’s happened since, planning the mission to take out Starkiller Base, succeeding, returning to D’Qar to regroup and plan their next move, their reunion seems like years ago, not days, but when Poe heard from BB-8 that someone named Finn was indeed not a _jacket-thief_ and had instead saved him and completed his mission, Poe thought he’d stumbled into a dream sequence worthy of every holodrama he’d seen as a child. 

He’s lucky there’s no one else in the medbay where Finn is resting right now, because remembering how foolish he was to sprint into the arms of someone he’d only just met for barely an hour before very nearly blowing up in a fiery crash has him blushing fiercely, and he hides his face in his hands in delayed embarrassment. 

It’s just- he was high off the adrenaline from a successful battle, he took out 11 TIEs in a single run, and in this war it’s not every day, it’s actually never at all, that friends come back from the dead once they’re considered lost. So he should be forgiven for getting a little overly excited to see a familiar face. 

The hiccup in a series of beeps coming from the medical device monitoring Finn’s vitals in the room brings him back to the present. Sitting up, blush sufficiently faded, Poe begins what’s been sort of a routine the past few days. 

Reaching out for Finn’s hand, he flips it palm up and begins slowly tracing the creases leading from one side to the other. This was something his parents had often done for him growing up when he’d been ill or had trouble sleeping. They’d fill the time telling stories, some he was sure were made up, other’s of a crazy Rebel they met during the war, or a weird creature they’d seen on a distant planet, all while slowly tracing line after line across his palm. Something about the softness, the connection, the repetition was distracting enough to pull his thoughts away from whatever was troubling him and grounding enough to anchor him to the present. 

He’d been hoping to provide Finn, even in his unconscious state, something to come back to. Some anchor point deep in his subconscious that would pull him awake, but so far all he’d done was spend the better part of two days talking to himself. 

Yesterday, more than a full day into his bedside vigil, he was deep into a story of the time Pava first met Snap and bet him she could outdrink him, not realizing all they had was liquor Snap had distilled himself, a leftover skill from his days growing up alone on Akiva. 

Poe was about to get to the part where Jessika tried standing up only to fall directly into a cleaning-droid’s wash bucket she hadn’t realized was behind her, when BB-8 entered the medbay room with a tray of food. 

Poe had argued that he was fine, wasn’t even hungry at all, and BB had rightfully replied that he thought this stage of BB-8 being the only one to take care of Poe when he was being irresponsible was behind them. 

Poe wasn’t a cadet in the academy anymore and really ought to know better for himself at this point. In the end, he really couldn’t do more than thank his best friend for always looking out for him, before BB-8 smugly made his exit. 

Today, he’s only just beginning a story about his own youth, learning the hard way just how rough crash landings could be when he broke his arm wrecking a glider as a kid, when someone knocks on the door to the room. 

Looking up, he’s greeted with the General standing in the doorway. Aside from the way she leans a little too heavily against the frame, an obvious sign of her exhaustion, she looks every bit as steadfast and radiant as he’s always known her to be. 

Poe begins moving to stand up, to offer her the only chair in the room but she quickly motions for him to stay put, so he sinks back down. He thinks better of reaching back for Finn’s hand with company present, though. 

It isn’t that he feels embarrassed by the gesture, it’s more that he doesn’t feel like explaining the _why_ behind the physical connection to anyone just yet. Not when he isn’t even sure if it is any more than a fool’s superstition that he’s actually doing anything to help Finn heal faster. 

“Has there been a change in intel? Something you need me to report for, General?”, Poe asks. Always able to snap his mind into business mode when duty calls. But Leia shakes her head, a small smile tilting up the corner of her mouth, that familiar glint in her eye at her Commander’s eagerness, despite knowing he wants nothing to do with leaving this very room. 

“No, Commander, no new info on First Order movement or regrouping as of yet. You can relax. Though I suspect it won’t be long before they come at us again,” she replies, stepping further into the room to stand on the opposite side of Finn’s bed. 

“Well, we’ll be ready for them when they do,” Poe says, his voice relaying confidence despite his hesitation knowing the last direct battle with the First Order’s heaviest hitter left Finn unconscious in this very bed before him. 

“When Rey returns with your brother we’ll be even more ready than we’ve ever been,” he adds maybe a few moments too late to have the reassuring affect he intends. 

Leia seems to take in his words for what they are, overstatements of the strength and power of the Resistance, the false confidence often required of a commanding officer, but still messages of hope nonetheless. 

She turns to him then, clearly taking in his disheveled appearance, undoubtedly matted hair from the way he’s been sleeping with it smashed into the blanket at an awkward angle for 2 nights, clothes wrinkled beyond belief, and the fondness in her eyes belies the businesslike tone their conversation has taken up to this point. 

She isn’t looking at him like one of her soldiers, no, this look Poe had only seen a few times but he’s sure it’s one of motherly affection. The similarities to a look he hasn’t seen since his early childhood bring up too much emotion too quickly for him to maintain eye contact. It speaks too much of caring, of love, and he tries his hardest to be worthy of that, especially from someone as important as Leia Organa, but he isn’t sure he deserves it just yet. He shifts in the chair uncomfortably, eyes drifting back to Finn still recovering in silence before them, unaware of all of this going on right next to him.

Thankfully Leia’s always beyond observant and she lets the concern she feels for his well being remain unspoken. He knows sleeping here, barely eating, worrying all of his waking hours isn’t healthy, but as of right now it isn’t stopping him from being fit for battle in a moments notice, so they don’t need to discuss anything. He doesn’t need an intervention.

“He’s strong,” she says instead, and he doesn’t need to look away from Finn to know they’re now looking at the same thing. 

“He is. Stronger than anyone, really,” Poe replies quietly. Despite the fact that Finn is unconscious and not merely sleeping, Poe still feels the need to keep the volume on all conversations to a minimum. Not quite a whisper, but the bubble of stillness that comes with being in a medbay room, the cacophony of machines, mixed with the whirring of med-droids doing their rounds, isn’t something he wants to disrupt with loud words. 

“He’s lucky to have a friend just as strong watching over him,” The General replies, and she’s looking back at Poe now. 

All he can do is nod, not trusting his voice with the heaviness of emotion weighing him down. He accepts her unspoken words of concern with slightly more shine in his eyes than moments earlier. She reaches down, pressing a hand to Finn’s shoulder for just a moment before turning to leave Poe to his solitary vigil.

After the General’s visit the rest of the day passes much as the previous two have. The only traffic into the room is the occasional droid checking machine readouts, and Dr. Kalonia stops by to determine if Finn’s bacta patches needed to be changed or if they could go another day. (They can wait.)

Through all of this, Poe sits patiently by Finn’s side, continuing his storytelling whenever they have the room to themselves. But at the end of the night, when he can’t stay awake anymore and is about to face another restless night in that wooden chair it hits him. 

He brings up the spare pillow that has been surreptitiously left in the room earlier and places it on the bedside, level with Finn’s hip. Sliding the chair as close to the bed as possible, he leans forward resting his head down and slipping his hand over Finn’s.

He’s been down before, times in his life when he felt lost about where to go next, lonely as he entered a new place without any family or friends to turn to, but this was something new. 

For the first time in his life, Poe realizes there’s a way to still feel alone and utterly helpless when you’re surrounded by others. In fact, he’s spent the better part of the last 48 hours right next to someone and still, he can’t feel more isolated in this space.

At the realization of how he really feels, the breath punches out of him and the despair he’d been barely keep at bay breaks free. This time, he lets the tears that fill his eyes flow out to the pillow below. 

No one’s around to judge him for it anyway. 

As he drifts off to a fitful sleep the last thing he hears is oddly enough his own name again, though he’s too far into the grasps of sleep to think on it, and besides, it sounds so very, very far away. 

_It’s alright Poe…I’m right here._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will end happy, I swear.


End file.
